


A short rest in Rivendell

by Elenyafinwe



Series: Peredhil [19]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Gen, Humor, One Shot, POV Multiple, Rivendell | Imladris, Third Age, not to be taken too serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28408017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenyafinwe/pseuds/Elenyafinwe
Summary: When Thorin & CO. come to Rivendell on the advice of Gandalf, they surely expected things to be a bit more serious. However, they did not expect that a small human boy would be making the Last Homely House unsafe these days, and that Elven lords would also be playing tricks on each other. Somehow this does not correspond to the image they had of Elrond and his house ...
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Elrond Peredhel, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin's Company, Elladan & Elrohir & Elrond Peredhel
Series: Peredhil [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077245
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	A short rest in Rivendell

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Familienleben in Bruchtal](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/733692) by Elenyafinwe. 



> CN The dwarves have some misogynistic takes in this.

Midsummer was approaching and, as every year, a small celebration was being prepared. Nothing that could be compared to Gondolin, but a celebration nonetheless, and that was more than Glorfindel would have liked. Since the fall of Gondolin, he was no longer a friend of celebrations, they made people careless, the fall of his old homeland had shown him that impressively.

Like every year, he tried to avoid any preparation, but with nothing was the bow he struck as great as with the bonfire. After all, the bonfire had gone down in organisation this year, perhaps because two overgrown children (and one real child) had kept messing up the preparations as they tried to help. The lack of fire probably didn't bother some residents of Rivendell, but Glorfindel was rather glad of it.

He trudged across Rivendell's courtyard, if you could say that about an elf, for elves are very light on their feet, even lighter on their feet than hobbits. Glorfindel hoped that a long ride would give him some distraction and, besides, he could check whether Rivendell was really safe and not just believed it. After all, someone had to be alert and attentive even on holidays.

He put the saddle on his proud white horse and the harness with the bright ringing bells. He was not afraid of being heard from far away, it was even fine with him. Secrecy, as the past had shown him, was not always the best and safest solution.

The horse's hooves thundered across the ground and the bells rang out brightly as Glorfindel spurred his stallion on as if he were on the run and in a way he probably was, even if he would never admit it to himself like that. He had faced a Balrog, he would not flee from something as ridiculous as a feast ... or so he tried to tell himself.

"What do I see, who is that rushing on horseback?

Who hurries on horseback, drumming hoofs on the earth?

The tall one and the bright one!

Why then does he seek the distance?"

He commanded his horse to stop and looked up at the trees.

"Lindir, show yourself!" he demanded sternly, and waited until another Elf leapt down from a tree. Glorfindel considered himself lucky that his horse trusted him blindly and remained calm even though Lindir hit the ground right in front of him.

"You would think it would be a joyous day, after all, Midsummer is soon ... But I forgot, you despise celebration almost as much as orcs." With these words and a bow drawn into ridicule, Lindir greeted Glorfindel.

"Someone needs to keep their wits about them and see to it that everyone is safe and where your task ... well, I don't know exactly what your task is until today, but I know mine and that is the safety of the valley."

"Your self-declared task more likely, actually you are an advisor to our Lord Elrond," the Elf standing on the floor countered, cheekily launching into another verse.

"Where then in such haste, and why then swearing?

Out seeking trouble in the distance."

"At least I don't mock everything and everyone in the form of bad verse, and that's without a singing voice," Glorfindel, still on horseback, countered.

"No, you don't ... and your permanent seriousness does neither you nor the elves around you any good ..." was Lindir's response.

"As long as everyone is safe, it doesn't matter!" growled Glorfindel.

"I don't know, you should remember that you have a life to fill too. What good is it to you if you live without any joy?" the other laughed before continuing to sing:

"Your little horse only wants to go to the stable,

Now sing, you hopeless case!"

"That's enough!" snapped Glorfindel sternly, but the other elf only laughed brightly and bowed mockingly.

"If you say so, Lord Glorfindel ... If I did not know better, I would say you dread being cheerful. Whereby ... do I know better?" There was no mistaking the mocking undertone. Glorfindel jumped out of the saddle and took a step towards the sneering Elf.

"I fear it not!"

"Prove it, I have never seen you at anything that is not serious, if we except that you can swear very exhilaratingly, but I strongly suspect that you do not mean to exhilarate by it."

"I have no need to prove it to you, Lindir." The addressed smirked to himself, normally hardly anyone dared to tease Glorfindel, he could be too fearsome, but that was exactly the problem, he found.

"Not to me... you should prove it to yourself. Or do you want to live with the knowledge that a little mirth will unbalance you?"

The horse lowered its head with a snort and began to ease one hind leg into a resting position, it seemed it could take longer. It had dozed off, what else was it going to do, its master didn't like it walking around nibbling grass while they were out. It would ruin the overall appearance.

All of a sudden, his Elf began to take the saddle off him. The horse's ears twitched, what were you doing? Sure, it didn't imagine it would understand its master, the latter was more often than not strange, but it didn't really happen that it was taken out of the stable only to be unsaddled outside, even though it wasn't time for a rest.

"Run home, my friend ... I have a few things to set right here," Glorfindel murmured to his stallion and took off his harness as well. The horse snorted softly, but then turned and trotted leisurely back to his stall. Maybe he could get into the paddock if he was lucky.

Glorfindel carefully placed his saddle and bridle on a low-hanging branch and then climbed a tree himself. Lindir jumped into another.

"Are you sure you are up to it?" he was still laughing, for he did not yet believe that he had really got Glorfindel to do it.

"What a question." Glorfindel still sounded irritated.

"Then please ... I would suggest we wait for the next one to come along."

They did, for several hours they just sat in the trees and Glorfindel cursed at himself. There were few things more uncomfortable than the tree he sat in, but he persevered, he had survived quite different things. Only never had anything seemed so meaningless to him.

"Someone is coming in the distance," Lindir murmured suddenly. Glorfindel only rolled his eyes, he had long noticed the newcomers.

"Rookie ... there are fifteen riders coming ... on ponies. Dwarves, if I may make a guess".

Lindir pondered for a moment and then struck up another ditty.

O! What are you doing,

And where are you going?

Your Ponies need shoeing!

The river is flowing!

O! tra-la-la-lally

here down in in the valley!*

Then he was silent for a moment and Glorfindel tried a verse. It was surprisingly easy, he found.

O! What are you seeking,

And where are you making?

The faggots are reeking,

The bannocks are baking!

O! tril-lil-lil-lolly

the valley is jolly,

ha! ha!*

Suddenly both elves flinched as the leaves rustled beneath them. A shock of dark hair peeked out from between the leaves and a ten-year-old boy looked at them. Glorfindel suddenly turned pale, for a light suddenly dawned on him. He had had to look after Estel, the boy, all these days while the feast was being prepared. Elrond would ram him unpointed into the ground, quarter him and then have him beheaded! In that order, of course. Or maybe not, but dead he would be in any case. By Elrond's standards. Which meant his reputation was ruined.

"Estel!" he exclaimed angrily. "What are you doing here?"

Estel's eyes widened and he pushed his lower lip forward. "Looking for you," he chirped. "You were supposed to be looking after me."

"A nanny!" trilled Lindir.

Glorfindel elbowed him in the side, nearly knocking him out of the tree. Estel, meanwhile, had settled himself on a branch above the elves and was looking at the dwarves, the wizard (who he didn't really know Gandalf was yet) and - strangely - a little boy his own age. How wonderful, a playmate who wasn't an elf!

"Tell me, what are you doing here anyway?" asked Estel of the Elves below.

"Welcoming guests," Lindir explained deadpan. "With songs, just as it should be."

"Reeeally?" went Estel, unsuspectingly imitating Elrond in his childhood days. Then he frowned, cleared his throat and sang a song in his turn:

O! Will you be staying,

Or will you be flying?

Your ponis are straying!

The daylight is dying!

To fly would be folly,

To stay would be jolly

And listen and hark

Till the end of the dark

to our tune

ha! ha!

By now other elves of Rivendell had taken a liking to Lindir's mocking song and were now singing a different tune. No, the dwarves were not really enthusiastic. Bilbo soon wasn't either, because some of the jokes were now directed at him - wherever the elves had got his name from.

From the house they heard shouts that included Estel's name, but louder were the angry shouts for Glorfindel. Lindir grinned.

"Too bad, the fun is already over," he commented. "It's only just begun!"

Glorfindel just scowled at him, grabbed Estel and jumped from the tree. The boy fidgeted. "I don't want to go!" he whined.

"You can keep singing, the dwarves will stay within earshot," Glorfindel said sternly, tucking the boy under his arm.

Estel sang happily to himself.

When they reached the bridge over the river, they already saw Elladan with some elves talking to the dwarves. Elrond's son caught sight of them (Lindir had still stayed behind in the trees to pursue his favourite pastime) and signified to the Elves to lead the Dwarves into the house, he would soon follow, and stopped towards Glorfindel.

"It's already evening, where were you with Estel?!" he grumbled, completely ignoring the fact that he was, after all, considerably younger and had known only one life so far in which he had been nowhere near killing anything as impressive as a Balrog - albeit a considerable number of Orcs.

"Glorfindel wasn't there!" announced Estel - and Glorfindel wished himself far away, for now there were abruptly no more excuses. "So I went looking for him," Estel continued. "Glorfindel was sitting in a tree with Lindir, singing funny songs about the dwarves. Joined in because Lindir said that's what you do when you want to be polite."

Glorfindel hurried to hand over the child to have him muzzled. Things were getting worse!

Elladan raised an eyebrow, a gesture startlingly reminiscent of his father. He motioned to an Elf who was passing by to send Lindir to his father, then he took charge of Estel as well as Glorfindel and led them behind the guests into the house and to Elrond.

They found the master of the house in the fire hall. Knitting. Elrohir was standing in front of him, talking intensely to him and looking not at all enthusiastic. The dwarves also seemed very surprised to find the master of the house doing women's work. Or what they saw as women's work. Was it really the master of the house or was it his wife? Elves all looked damned feminine without beards. They were even more amazed when Elrond caught sight of them and beckoned to his son and foster son.

"Estel, come here and try it on!" he called across the hall.

Estel already suspected disaster and turned away. "Wool is lousy!" he whined. "Knitted undergarments scratch!"

Elladan grabbed him by the collar and took him to Elrond, though inwardly he had to agree. But winter was coming early at the feet of the Misty Mountains, so they might as well start knitting clothes for the boy now. Estel resisted fiercely, but unfortunately had no chance to escape. So, with drooping ears, he stood before Elrond, who now pulled out a small woollen garment that he had already finished (the ones for his own sons were in progress, which was why Elrohir was absolutely not happy) and which he now pulled over Estel's head, who admittedly did not cooperate.

"Arms up!" said Elrond sternly.

Estel grumbled, but complied.

In the background the dwarves were whispering to each other. Gandalf grinned into his beard, for he knew this was standard in Elrond's house - making him one of the very few outsiders with that knowledge. And Bilbo didn't know what to make of it.

"Sure we want to stay here?" muttered Glóin to Thorin.

"All mad here," Fili, like his brother Kili Thorin's nephew, interjected.

Gandalf gave them a stern look, for it was not wise to let such things slip in front of Elrond, who had admittedly heard everything, only just had more to do with Estel than anything else.

Estel meanwhile had been put into his new clothes, on which were embroidered conspicuous eight-pointed stars, and was now being turned to and fro.

"Fits," Elrond commented.

Estel was the very symbol of unhappiness.

"So now it's your turn," Elrond said to the twins.

"What, oh no! Not again!" they cried in chorus. They turned on their heels and disappeared, but were stopped by an unexpected element. Gandalf.

"Why do you want to go so quickly?" he asked hypocritically. "Surely it is worth staying a little longer. You know your father has his five minutes now and then."

"But not when it comes to something like this!" they shouted again in chorus.

"Did you ever get knitted things from him?" added Elrohir.

"Apart from the fact that there are only stars on them every time," said Elladan.

"Dull, boring, monotonous stars!"

"Which also always look the same."

"Since when do stars permanently have only eight points?!"

Gandalf pushed her back to Elrond, who was now tugging Elladan's clothes over his head, though a little more roughly than necessary and just for his cheeky words.

"You've grown wider again!" clamoured Elrond as he noticed the new garment around his son's chest straining a little. The two of them were hunting too many orcs!

Kili raised a hand. "Since when do elves get fat? I thought only Bombur could do that."

"Hey!" the latter complained. "I'm not fat, I have heat pads."

The twins looked crossly at the dwarves in unison, who immediately fell silent. They had that too from their father.

Elrond now turned to his guests. Family came first.

The dwarves were surprised that he had noticed them at all.

" _Mae govannen_ and welcome, strangers from distant lands," he greeted them almost solemnly. A sharp contrast to the mothering of his sons. Suddenly he was a reverent, aloof elven lord, as one thought he was supposed to be.

Thorin stepped forward with narrowed eyes. Surely the first thing had been an insult! He was about to introduce himself when Elrond beat him to it.

"Greetings to you too, Thorin II. Oakenshield Thráinthrór's son," said Lord Elrond. "The lineage of Durin is also well known in this House. I am Elrond Peredhel, Lord of Imladris."

Thorin's face fell. How did this Elf - half-Elf - know so much about him!

"Lord Elrond is master of many sciences," Gandalf explained with a grin. "He is one of the wisest east of the sea, the greatest healer of this time, descendant of the Elven Kings of old, of all three Houses of Men and Melian of Maia."

Elronds frowned. He was well aware of his somewhat strange ancestry, and he wasn't exactly happy about it. After all, think of Gil-galad, who had had the glorious idea of trying to make him High King.

Bilbo was deeply impressed, the dwarves very little. A pointy ear was a pointy ear, and they could do very little with most of them anyway.

In the background, Estel tugged at his clothes. They scratched! Elladan pulled them back to him, but tugged his own off.

"You're mean!" Estel snorted.

Already the great Elven lord had disappeared into some insignificant recess and Elrond intervened. "No fighting, you two!" he said. "But Elladan, help your brother out. It is far too warm for the little one."

"Why always me?!" complained Elladan.

Estel had long since pulled down his woollen clothes as soon as Elrond had given permission.

"We are tired and hungry and indeed people of note, as I'm sure you know," Thorin said, the irony evident. He was about to explode! "We would like to have something to eat, rest and get some information in the next few days. That's what Gandalf seemed to have brought us here for. Only, alas, we seem to be in the wrong place for it."

The Elf Lord was brought out again as quickly as he had disappeared. Elrond looked at him sternly. "Then you and your companions shall be granted this," he said. He turned to a hulking, armoured Elf behind him, the hilt of a frighteningly large sword looming over his shoulder. "Rethtulu, escort our guests to the dining room and prepare enough bath tubs."

Thorin looked furious. "Rarely before have I been so insulted!"

"Thorin!" admonished Gandalf.

Elrond was innocence personified. "It is part of courtesy to prepare a bath for guests," he said selenically. "Now, of course, I do not know how it is with your people …"

Thorin opened and closed his mouth a few times, remembering Gandalf's admonition, and remained silent. Wordlessly, he turned and stomped away.

"You're going the wrong way, Master Dwarf," Rethtulu interjected dryly.

Thorin roared angrily, turned and was now trudging in the other direction.

Rethtulu grinned wickedly behind his back and said something to Elrond in Quenya. The latter said something in the same language, it sounded admonishing. Gandalf grinned inside himself again.

"That was an insult!" the dwarves clamoured. Unsuspecting, they were even right.

"My servant would never allow himself such a thing," Elrond lied smoothly.

They followed Rethtulu, who showed them to their rooms, where they deposited their luggage, and then took them to dinner. Estel had already escaped from the adults again and was now besieging Bilbo, who had actually wanted to question Rethtulu; the Elf was quite unusual after all.

"Shall we play together tomorrow?" squeaked Estel as he skipped along beside Bilbo. How nice it was to have a playmate his own size! "Why are you going with the grown-ups anyway? You're a boy too! And you have such funny big feet, why?"

Bilbo laughed and ran his hand through the boy's hair. "And I can ask you why you're here when you're not an elf and why Lord Elrond knitted for you," he countered.

"He is my _ada_ ," said Estel. "And I don't know why _ada_ does that. It's annoying, but he just does it."

"What does _ada_ mean?" asked Bilbo.

"Papa."

Bilbo looked at him in amazement. "What do you mean? Lord Elrond is really your father?"

"Well, he always was," Estel said indeterminately. "He's not really my papa, but I don't know who else could be. Besides, he says I should call him that, and to him I'm his son too."

"And where is your mother?"

"Visiting grandma and grandpa. Now tell me about yourself!"

Bilbo was taken aback by the sudden change of heart. "Well, I'm a Hobbit from the Shire."

"Where's that? What's a Hobbit?" blathered Estel at him.

"The Shire is a very beautiful little country many weeks west of here," said Bilbo. "If your _ada_ allows it and you would like it, then yes, I can take you there on my way back."

Estel's "Ow yes!" caught in his throat as Rethtulu cleared his throat menacingly beside them.

"Or not ..." chirped Bilbo. "And I'm a Hobbit, or even a halfling, if that tells you more."

Estel shook his head.

" _Periain_ ," Rethtulu translated for him.

"Oh, I see!" made Estel. Sindarin he understood now and then quite better than his mother tongue, Westron. Thanks to Elrond's education. "Ada told me funny stories," the boy said. "But I always thought they were just his nice bedtime stories. He's sooo good at telling those!"

Glóin eyed the boy sceptically. The child was clearly too big for such stories! He should have a serious word with Lord Elrond, Gimli had been much more mature at that age.

To Estel's chagrin, they now reached the dining room, which, however, saved Bilbo from an enormous flood of questions. Rethtulu nevertheless had his difficulties in relieving the Fellowship of the boy. It had to be done, however, as it was already evening, the boy was supposed to be asleep and he did not want to deal with an overtired boy either for himself or for all the rest of Rivendell. Finally, he baited him by offering to let him ride on his shoulders. Estel was on fire.

Only a few moments later, a bloodcurdling clamour suddenly resounded through Rivendell. Elrond had Lindir and especially Glorfindel in his grip.

Since dwarves generally got up late, especially when they were travelling, and Elrond was a notorious late riser anyway, it made sense for the guests to dine with the master of the house and his small family. Estel was incredibly eager to play with Bilbo; he didn't care that the Hobbit was five times his age. Elrond had a hard time keeping him quiet. At one point he grabbed him without further ado, sat him on his lap and made sure that Estel ate up well and didn't forget to eat because he was so excited.

Glóin rolled his eyes. The conversation was badly needed!

Estel sneezed as he got something up his nose.

"Boy, have you caught a cold again?" And already Elrond was pulling out a red silk handkerchief, one of Arwen's leftovers, who preferred to stay in Lórien at the moment.

Estel pushed the handkerchief far away from her with a disgusted expression. "This looks stupid!"

Mercilessly, Elrond held it to his nose. Estel had no choice but to snort. For the next few days, moreover, he was under closer scrutiny by Elrond. At least he was not immediately condemned to nap. It would be a losing battle anyway.

Glóin shook his head in displeasure. What was to become of this mothered boy?!

By now they were all largely sated, so the twins felt the time was ripe to commend themselves and start the day. Elrond remembered unpleasantly that he still had work to do. And the work was guaranteed to be neatly sorted on his spotlessly cleaned desk. He also recommended himself and actually wanted to take Estel with him. The little boy stopped him.

"Ada, may I show the funny little fellow Imladris?" asked Estel.

Elrond gave an amused look to the dwarves, most of whom looked unenthusiastic. " You are welcome to it," he said. "I'm sure they'll be delighted. Show them the most beautiful corners. But just don't forget your writing exercises afterwards."

He beckoned to Ceomon, his second servant and oldest friend. "Take good care of _Onórion_ ," he said in Quenya. By brother's son was meant Estel. "He seems to me to be ailing."

The native speaker alone knew whom Elrond meant. Ceomon bowed low. "As you wish, my lord. Come, Estel." He held out his hand to the little boy.

Estel showed them his favourite corners of Rivendell over the next few hours. It wasn't really informative, but Ceomon did add an explanation with the odd picture or exhibit. After all, he was much more affable than Rethtulu.

Glorfindel didn't show his face all day. Lindir did, but he did not sing.

The dwarves became angrier and angrier, and Bombur was soon whining again that he was getting hungry from all the strange names. Kili and Fili saw it as a good opportunity to tease him once again about his corpulence.

Bilbo found the opportunity to finally ask Ceomon about himself and Rethtulu. After all, he found it rather strange why two so obviously different elves were in Rivendell. At first Ceomon's answers were quite simple, but soon he noticed that Bilbo was very interested in history, and he began to talk and talk and talk. Suddenly the dwarves were gone, though Estel was still at Ceomon's hand.

"Don't want to have to learn!" the boy grumbled. For the tour was obviously over and Papa had said that he should learn now.

"Now go along nicely, little rascal," said Ceomon, leaning down to the child. "I'm sure Mr Bilbo has some more questions about dull grown-up things. I'm sure even learning is more fun there."

"If you say so," conceded Estel. "But I get to play with Bilbo afterwards?"

"Only if Mr Baggins wants you to," Ceomon replied. "You know it's proper to ask first, especially adults."

"All right! May I?" asked Estel Bilbo with an angelic expression.

"But of course I'll play with you later," the Hobbit promised.

And off the boy went.

"Lovely child," Bilbo commented.

"At least he didn't get that from nothing ...", Ceomon replied cryptically.

Thorin & Co., meanwhile, had fled quite a way ahead and were grumbling happily to themselves, especially as Gandalf had not been seen since the previous evening. Typical wizard! Just then, an excited Estel came rushing at them from behind. The bearded one groaned like a man. Not him too! They had been glad to have just escaped, and now this!

"Why do you have so much hair on your faces?"

Silence. Then peals of laughter.

"It's not just hair, it's beards, nipper," Kili explained.

"Can I touch it?" asked Estel innocently. "Uncle Ceomon said I should always ask."

The dwarves all looked unenthusiastic, but Kili took pity on the child before them. "Sure you do," he said. "But don't you dare pull my brother's beard!"

Estel looked round. Thirteen dwarves stood before him, somehow all looking alike with the fuzz on their faces. "Who's that?" he asked cautiously.

"That's me," Fili said, stepping forward. "Look, and this is our uncle, Thorin, you know him already. This here Balin and Dwalin, Óin and Glóin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, Dori, Ori and Nori. And of course us, the most important, Kili and Fili."

For the last remark Thorin hit them over the head.

Estel was about to say something, but then thought it was unhealthy to say anything against Thorin; he seemed really important.

The boy reached out to touch Kili's beard. "Soft!" he laughed. "Doesn't that tickle?"

Kili nudged his elbow into his brother's side. "See, that's how you take care of a beard!" he exclaimed.

The other dwarves had gone for good. Estel had found his new chaperones, after all. And that was exactly the mistake. For Kili and Fili now took him into their midst.

"You, tell me, who actually sang those somewhat unkind songs yesterday?" they asked him.

"Lindir!" announced Estel. "And he got Lord Glorfindel to sing along. And since Lord Glorfindel was supposed to play with me but didn't, I went to find him. I found ..." He was interrupted.

"Sooo," made the brothers ominously. "So where are these elves we've never heard of?" asked Fili.

"You don't know Glorfindel?!" exclaimed Estel in horror. "He once killed a Balrog!"

"What's a Balrog?"

Estel considered, then shrugged. He didn't know any other word for it and Ceomon had better not know he was here and not learning. "Big, shadowy, fiery," he described imprecisely.

"A dragon?" they guessed into the blue.

Estel shook his head. "No, not _amlug_ ," he said.

"Then ..." Kili scratched his head. "I don't know."

"You said you'd show us where to find those elves," Fili reminded Estel.

"Yes, I will!" announced Estel. "But Ceomon can't know I'm here, can he? And neither can ada, and neither can _gwenyn_."

"And who else?" asked Kili.

"Boy, just use words we know," Fili admonished.

"'Scuse me," mumbled Estel. "Can do better than that though, that's what everyone's talking about here. I mean my brothers, the twins. Elladan and Elrohir."

"You can tell them apart?" asked Fili.

"Yeah, sure, it's easy," Estel was absolutely sure. "Who can't?"

The dwarf brothers thought it better not to say anything about that. They didn't want to embarrass themselves, after all. So instead they went in search of elves.

Only when a loud howl of rage echoed through Rivendell did Elrond notice that it was surprisingly quiet in Estel's study. Only a few moments later, an angry Elven lord stood in front of two meek dwarves and a meeker human child, behind whom towered a badly battered and, above all, furiously fierce Glorfindel.

"What have you done to Estel?!" he snapped at Glorfindel.

"What? ME?!" he roared back. "The brat's been up to mischief, ask him!"

Elrond's stern gaze moved to Estel. The boy was getting smaller and smaller. "Kili and Fili only wanted me to show them where Glorfindel and Lindir were," he chirped almost inaudibly. Good thing Elrond had good ears.

Now Kili and Fili were killed with glances. For quite a while there was deadly silence and the two dwarves were already facing every means of torture they knew. "You will now converse with Glorfindel," Elrond growled. "Privately."

A diabolical grin crept into Glorfindel's face. Revenge had to be had.

"And you're coming with me, young man!"

Estel had hoped to get away. Too bad Glorfindel could get louder than the bell tower. Shoulders drooping, he crept along behind his surrogate dad. For the rest of the day he was surprisingly well-behaved, which was probably due to the fact that he also had to study there under Elrond's supervision.

Actually, the next two weeks were a nice time for the dwarves. Actually. They only realised the value of this time much later in the midst of hordes of orcs who wanted to eat them. That's the way it always was. Thorin & Co. had their peace for the most part, especially as Estel actually rather besieged Kili and Fili, as they made the best play chamberlains of the dwarves. Most of the time, however, he played with Bilbo, until he fell dead into bed in the evening. Bilbo liked to do it anyway, because Estel was a really lovely boy, almost as cute as a Hobbit child and really very clever - but unfortunately very much alive ... But what didn't one do to please a child? But how could Bilbo now even guess that the future King of the Reunited Kingdom would tell his own children exactly the same Hobbit stories as Bilbo was telling Lord Elrond's foster son these days?

As for Elrond himself, and to a small extent Gandalf, they were both busy with the final preparations for the feast, for Gandalf had unceremoniously agreed to set off fireworks. He was so good at that, after all, it was the only thing he was known for among Hobbits. And for magic buttons, of course. Elrond had to laugh when he heard that and promised to record it in the annals.

As for Ceomon ... He wished himself on the Helcaraxe during the punishment sermon, and that meant a lot. Especially as he would now be allowed to mop the floor in Imladris for the next few years. Glorfindel secretly cursed that Elrond did not give his dearest and most pointless punishment to Ceomon and that the Balrog slayer of old still had to shovel snow.

The good time in Rivendell was drawing to a close, much to everyone's chagrin (or perhaps not quite to everyone's chagrin), but so was the Elvish feast preparation (much to everyone's delight except Glorfindel's, it had been quite chaotic after all). And so Elrond finally had time for his guests and their concerns. Without further ado, he organised a formal supper according to all the rules of Noldorin diplomacy - for Elrond had learned it from them, like almost everything else in his life. Food yes (especially Bombur), but elvish ... Far too much green stuff!

Elrond had it plated up and hoped that it would be enough for Bombur. The dwarf had already eaten half his larder anyway! Bilbo came immediately afterwards. That such small creatures could eat so much! He eyed his guests as they ate heartily.

"Oh, Estel, sit still for once!" he admonished the boy, who was once again sitting jitterily on his lap. "If you don't sit still soon, you won't be allowed to stay up any longer."

Already there was silence. And again Gandalf smirked to himself. Elrond gave him an offended look. Rethtulu, who stood diagonally behind Elrond, fully armed but with only a dagger (which would have been a sword to almost anyone else present), made it clear with a glance that he could not but agree with his master.

After quite a long time by elvish standards and a terrible mess on the table, everyone seemed to be sated at last. Servants carried off and brought light nibbles which, as Bilbo said, filled the gaps excellently. The Hobbit took a big bite, and Elrond could not believe his eyes that Mr Baggins could still eat like that. He had not yet entertained Periannath.

"Lord Elrond," Gandalf began. He knew the form, even if the Elf Lord in question was more concerned with a much too lively child on his lap. "Can you take a look at these weapons here? We found them in a troll hoard west of here. The trolls themselves, after trying to turn my brave companions into brawn, have since turned to stone thanks to a quarrel whose spark I occasionally fanned a little. These swords, however, are clearly of elvish make. Perhaps you can tell who forged them?"

Estel, who until now had been cuddled involuntarily by Elrond, was now passed to the twins for Elrond to take the two swords that Gandalf handed him. The boy whined, he was at least tall enough to sit in his own chair next to Elrond. Elrond pulled the swords from their scabbards and was indeed speechless at first.

"These are swords of the Noldor of Gondolin, my kin," he announced after reading the runes on the blades. "This one, Thorin, is Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver, an ancient and renowned blade. And this, Gandalf, is none other than that of my ancestor Turgon, the Hidden King of Gondolin, Glamdring, the Foe-hammer. A truly venerable and mighty blade. Keep it well."

"You will not take it to yourself, _adar_?" asked Elladan, at least in Sindarin so the dwarves would not understand him.

"It is your legacy," Elrohir added.

And with a twinkle in his eye, "And ours."

"By that reckoning, we have enough trinkets here," Elrond countered.

Gandalf laughed harshly. The dwarves wondered what was going on.

"But no, I don't want them," Elrond now continued seriously. "I have swords that Maglor and Maedhros had forged for us that are better for me than a blade of Gondolin. Not to mention your swords, they come from Feanor ..."

"Who is all this again?" inquired Estel. There were just too many names he knew but kept getting confused as to who had been who. He knew only one thing: "But you said you were related to them and not to any from ... from, er, Gondolin."

"A long story," Elrond fed him. "Another time. Now, off with you, little one, it is late. Elladan, Elrohir, take him to bed."

"Neither please nor thank you from you, tsk tsk tsk," Elrohir rebuked playfully, taking care of the small and loudly protesting Estel.

After the three had left, Thorin handed him a map. "This is our destination, the mountain of our people."

Elrond merely nodded and accepted the map, freely recognising the Lonely Mountain - Erebor. "So you wish to recover the treasure?" he asked, though purely rhetorically. It was obvious. Dwarves, a lost dwarven kingdom, its rightful heir, a hell of a lot of gold ... If only there wasn't the small fact that a dragon slept on the treasure. "Are you sure of that?"

Thorin's look spoke volumes. Yes, they were, and he was supposed to oblige by saying how they got in! Thorin then - wonder of wonders - put it more diplomatically. "The map must tell us how to get in. You shall tell us how."

Elrond looked at the map in silence for quite a while. He could certainly read the runes in the margin, they described nothing more than the door height of an obviously secret door, as well as the location of the same by a rune on the mountain. It was only a question of how to get through the door, for that would not be easy. It was one of those things with dwarf doors.

Dwarf doors!

He stood up and held the map up to the moonlight. "One advantage of being Celebrimbor's 'little cousin'," he muttered to himself, for admittedly moon runes appeared on an already conspicuously blank surface. He read: "'Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key hole'* They are moon runes, very clever."

"What are moon runes?" asked Bilbo almost as excitedly as Estel, for he was terribly interested in maps. Of course, all the maps in Imladris had already been made uncertain by him.

"Look here," Elrond offered him. "Such runes can only be read by the moonlight by which they were written."

In the back of his mind, Thorin gritted his teeth, for it had been so simple, the solution to this riddle. And, of all things, half a pointy ear had solved it! And, to make matters worse, this impossibly feminine one at that!

After Bilbo had been sufficiently enlightened by Elrond about moon runes (first-hand, after all, Celebrimbor, inventor of moon runes, had actually called Elrond his little cousin), Elrond handed the map back to its rightful owner. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

"No," Thorin said dryly and hurriedly.

"What my friend means to say is that you have already done a great deal for us and helped us a great deal," Gandalf interjected.

They took their leave of each other for the evening. Elrond, quite the host, waited until all his guests had left the balcony. Only, one dwarf did not leave and stared at him penetratingly.

"What do you wish, Glóin Gróin's son?" so Elrond inquired, but secretly cursed, as he too wanted to go to his chambers. The journal waited.

"I need to talk to you about your impossible parenting style!" Glóin reared up to his full height, still barely reaching Elrond's navel, and thrust his fists into his sides. Elrond almost laughed, but then he had good manners.

"Well?" he contented himself with saying, then.

"The boy is surely fifteen or older and you treat him like a ten-year-old."

Now Elrond could hardly hold back the laughter. A teenage dwarf was about to lecture him on child rearing, when he was raising twins, an impossible daughter and now Estel! Glóin had just one son, Gimli. "That's because Estel is only ten years old," he reminded Glóin. "And since, after all, I am definitely not his birth father, I get to spoil him to get ahead of your next argument."

"Ah ..." Glóin didn't know what to say. "In that case ... I didn't know ... so the age ..."

"Now that that's settled ..." Elrond practically pushed the dwarf towards the door. " _Mára lóme_ ," he wished him. "Good night."

The next day the dwarves, the wizard and, of course, the Hobbit departed. Elrond breathed a sigh of relief. Peace at last. And Estel alone was really calmer compared to the two weeks before.

**Author's Note:**

> *quotes from The Hobbit
> 
> The first poems are writen by me and since I'm bad at poetry even in German I just translated them word for word. I've written this text after I watched the first Hobbit movie and were disapointed by the dwarves' behaviour. Now I want to rewrite this text, too, lol. You find a more serious take at this in my fic [Wanderer in the mist of time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27757606/chapters/67945192).


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